


Desecrated

by softieghost



Series: Another First Time [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Genderfluid Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, Muslim Otabek Altin, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rimming, me headcanon for muslim otabek finally rears it head, no theyre not fucking in a mosque or a church dont worry, only a little bit though, they love each other a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softieghost/pseuds/softieghost
Summary: Yuri shifted closer and parted his legs like his lips, a little at first and then all the way to give Otabek access to his body. Yuri moaned and Otabek sucked a hickey into his neck – Yuri didn’t care either way for them but he wore them with pride because Otabek as possessive and jealous and a bad influence and he wanted the world to know he had claim over the Ice Tiger. Lucky for him his kitten allowed the markings.





	Desecrated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voxane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxane/gifts).



Otabek felt flushed as he drove through the chilly morning air into the rising sun. Butterflies were in his stomach right next to a small ball of anxiety as he thought about asking Yuri for reciprocity for what they had done in the beginning of the summer some time during the week he was able to visit. It was nearly fall, nearly the start of the season, and the apple trees that dotted the city streets were starting to change colors. He felt a change in himself brewing, too.

As the engine of the bike purred so did he, vibrating with excitement as he went to pick up Yuri from the airport. His flight should be landing soon and Otabek would be right there to pick him up, seamlessly.

As the sun changed the colors of the sky Otabek was reminded of the color of Yuri’s hair because he was a romantic, after all, even though Yuri always made fun of him for it. He would laugh, open mouthed, as Otabek reached for his hand or slung his arm around his shoulders or made sweet pillow talk in his ears when he wanted to make love instead of fuck. He would laugh, and smile, and indulge because he was as fearless and kind as he was pointed and venomous.

As airports are want to be the entryway was already crowded and noisy as Otabek pulled up to the short term car park to drop his bike off. As he dismounted he felt his leather jacket tighten uncomfortably on his shoulders – he was overdressed with a sweater on underneath because he knew Yuri would steal the jacket as soon as he could. He even wore too much cologne so it would rub off and Yuri could bury his nose in it on the ride to Otabek’s apartment the way he liked.

Otabek locked his helmet up and took a picture of it next to Yuri’s cheetah print version because he knew it would make Yuri happy and sent it off to his rarely used Instagram, #nofilter #bestboyfriend, #oneweekinparadise.

As Otabek navigated the long hallways of the airport he felt nervous. They hadn’t seen each other since just after Worlds, a few months ago. They wouldn’t be able to see each other until the Grand Prix Final, either, since they hadn’t been assigned the same qualifiers. He needed to make this week a good one, especially as he was aiming to get what he wanted at the end of it.

The baggage claim was empty. Otabek’s phone has no new messages even though Yuri’s plane had landed a few minutes ago according to the tracker. Otabek’s nervousness doubled before it tripled as he waited and waited and waited. He got up from his seat and sat back down and got up again while checking his phone every few seconds. It remained blank.

Otabek paced up and down the baggage claim and watched other flyers pick up their suitcases until the last remaining one was a black bag with a suspicious band of leopard print ribbon tied around the handle to demarcate it. Otabek picked it up and clung to it as he looked around the room once again. Still nothing.

As he was about to call Yuri, worry thick in his throat, he felt a hand graze his ass. Turning, ready to punch, he was greeted by the wide tiger smile of his boyfriend, hair wild and long and mouth glossy and pink.

Otabek cut off Yuri’s starlight laughter by kissing him, hard and all teeth and months of loneliness. He wrapped his hands around Yuri’s back and pressed them close together before lifting Yuri up into the air despite the fact that he had long before become the taller one in the relationship.

“I missed you.” Otabek breathed into Yuri’s hair. Yuri smelled like plane and sweat and stale air and Otabek wanted to smell it forever; he wanted to lie next to his Yura and wake up to his laughter every day. Just a week wasn’t enough anymore.

“I missed you too. Sorry it took me for-fucking-ever, customs was bad and I had to pee and then there were Angels because _someone_ put up a little picture on Instagram. It was cute though, I like it.” Yuri punctuated this with another kiss before grabbing Otabek’s hand and pulling him towards the door.

“Let’s fucking go.”

Yuri’s cheetah print scarf fluttered in the breeze as they left the airport.

 

* * *

 

 

They went to dinner the first night and Otabek rubbed circles with his thumb into Yuri’s inner thigh. They’d already made love that day, at Otabek’s request, slow and sexy and face to face. Of course Yuri smirked at him and said “I could have guessed” but he laid down for Otabek anyway and looked so delicate despite his muscles and his height and his red face as Otabek drove them both to orgasm. Yuri even let Otabek hold him, after, when they were still sticky and sweaty without any complaint.

At dinner, though, the mood was electric. Otabek wanted to lean in and lick the whipped cream from Yuri’s dessert that lingered on his lips but he held himself back, wanting to save his energy for the end of the week. This was only day one.

On the second day they kissed until both of their mouths were cherry red, hot and sweet like moonshine under the fall sun. They traded blowjobs and sat and watched a movie after, holding onto one another until they melded together into one blanket-clad mess. Otabek’s heart swelled for his Yuri and his love and his life and his everything else. He felt like he was the first man on the moon, encroaching new territory by cracking into the heart of the Russian Punk.

Even though they spoke every day each time they were able to meet in person there was something slightly different and new to discover about Yuri. His hair would be longer, he would have new clothes or a new perfume, and he would paint his nails pink. Or he would be more closed off like he was after Nikolai got sick and then open and light hearted when he was released from the hospital. He was nervous when Viktor and Yuuri first said they wanted to adopt a child. He wanted more tattoos to go along with his Olympic rings on his inner elbow. Yuri would hold all his secrets in until they visited and then he would explode like an overstuffed suitcase – emotional baggage.

They ran in the mornings and went to Otabek’s rink to train even though Otabek’s coach didn’t want Yuri to be there. He thought he was a distraction to the other skaters even though he only ever paid attention to Otabek, chasing him around like a blond fury shadow. The rookies and Juniors tried to take his picture and he indulged, but only on the first day because after that was back to work.

On the third day they went shopping together like they had in Barcelona all those years ago. Yuri was no longer a child but he still had terrible taste in fashion – all cheetah print and furs and lace and sequins. He dressed in every color all at once or nothing but monochrome. He wore skirts short enough to show his ass to clubs and dresses that trailed on the ground and jeans so tight they looked like they were going to rip around his thigh and ass muscles. Otabek picked out clothes for Yuri to try on but he always scoffed at them and grabbed something else.

They shared a dressing room. They had to wait until the attendant stepped away so they could sneak into one together. Yuri put on his clothes and took them off as Otabek admired his body. And then Yuri knelt down, even though the door didn’t go all the way to the floor, and put his pretty pink mouth around Otabek’s cock. It didn’t take long for Otabek to spill down Yuri’s throat – this was almost what he wanted, after all, but not quite. A warm up.

On day four, when they were beginning to see the end of the week approach, they fucked in Otabek’s bedroom. And then his kitchen. And the living room just to be sure they still could.

Otabek laid his hand against Yuri’s throat almost every time. He’d been hesitant to do it that first night in St. Petersburg when Yuri was dressed up so right and angelic but now he grew bolder and often did it without asking first, trusting Yuri to put up two hands if he wanted to stop. It only happened once. Every other time, though, Yuri rested his head against the pillows or on Otabek’s shoulder if they were back to front and pulled up on their knees and he let himself descend down low into that subliminal space until he was floating, every worry gone from his mind. And Otabek pulled him back up with a quick release valve, letting the pressure out until Yuri was leveled off again.

On day five Yuri pushed Otabek down flat and kissed him soft. He gave him everything but didn’t call it making love because that was Otabek’s line even though he made Otabek’s chest tight as he worked himself inside. They came, face to face, and Yuri cried little tears like he did sometimes and Otabek held him and didn’t say a word.

They took the bike out and drove it high up in the mountains the next day, the day before the last, and sat in silence while they looked over Almaty, a city nestled in a valley like the hands of God. Yuri wore Otabek’s jacket. Otabek realized, a little too late, he would probably not get it back until the Grand Prix Final, if at all. He realized, too, that he didn’t mind.

They’d been together for a while now, long enough to start thinking about the future with some air of certainty. It’d been a few years since they met the second time and almost a decade since the first. They were adults; Otabek was a man and Yuri was Yuri, as he liked to say, and holding hands sent electricity into them both but in ways much different than it used to – no longer the feeling of newness but of wishing, dreaming, planning. Otabek planned, as much as he could against the unknown black void of their future to be together for as long as they lived. He held that feeling in his heart and hoped Yuri understood without words.

On the last day Otabek suggested a distraction.

“Let’s go to Central Mosque. It’s Friday and I haven’t prayed in a long time, if you don’t mind. You can watch from the balcony.”

“Fuck yeah.”

Central Mosque was the largest in Almaty and Otabek’s father used to be one of the more influential imams there before he turned his attention full-time to politics. Otabek had more or less grown up in his father’s stuffy office above the main floor. His earliest memory was sitting in the office with his father and mama while they read to him or played with him or sat in comfortable silence with him, squirming in mama’s lap.

Yuri didn’t know much about Islam and Otabek wasn’t sure if he could say he did, either, any more. He’d learned to cook while training in the US so he could eat halal but he slowly, unintentionally, dropped off his dedication after he moved to Canada and was forced to go to JJ’s rock church that was horrible and tacky. After he moved back and had his own apartment he sat in an in-between space – able to go but not, always giving himself an excuse. But now, as he sat and saw forever in Yuri’s green eyes he wanted to reconnect with his past and bring that along for the ride as well.

Yuri stood in the balcony and watched the men stand and kneel and press their noses down onto the floor in a choreographed dance that he didn’t understand. He said, afterwards, that they looked like little waves of people moving up and down in tandem inside the glittering hall. Otabek smiled and agreed, grabbing Yuri’s hand as they left.

The midafternoon sun was warm on their backs as they walked to get lunch.

The sun became the evening and still they walked around the city, not always saying much but enjoying the time spent outside of the apartment all together. In the dim twilight they made their way into First President’s Park, which was technically closed once the sun was gone, but there wasn’t really anyone around to enforce their leave so they stayed, up on the stone steps near the entrance, and sat while they talked and talked and talked.

Otabek was known in their circle of the world as a dark horse, as someone standoffish and cold and maybe a little bit unfriendly. Yuri, of course, was loud and voracious – he was a starving appetite begging to be payed attention to. So they tended to meet in the middle, as Viktor would say, spending equal amounts of time talking and sitting in silence. Even their conversations about memes and skater gossip and the weather felt important to Otabek because every honey dripped word that fell from Yuri’s mouth was a treasure – every “fuck” and “goddamn” and “Jesus Christ” were precious to him.

The itch under Otabek’s skin was growing, though, as they sat in the starlight. The monument to the first president was no longer casting long shadows over them; they were bathed in a cool darkness that made it easy to slide their mouths together like the first time they did out in the drunk black night of the Olympic Village, fresh tattoos bandaged up against the wind.

Otabek moved his hand over Yuri’s thigh and up up up to the juncture of his hip where his jeans were bunched and pressing in, sure to leave red lines with how tight they were. Yuri shifted closer and parted his legs like his lips, a little at first and then all the way to give Otabek access to his body. Yuri moaned and Otabek sucked a hickey into his neck – Yuri didn’t care either way for them but he wore them with pride because Otabek was possessive and jealous and a bad influence and he wanted the world to know he had claim over the Ice Tiger. Lucky for him his kitten allowed the markings.

Otabek hefted Yuri up into his lap and ran his fingers through Yuri’s blonde hair, left down and tangled in the autumn wind.

“Can I ask for something?”

“Are you finally working up the courage, Altin?” Yuri smirked down at him and Otabek’s stomach churned in the best kind of way possible. Of course he already knew. He was so damn smart.

“We’re alone, so I thought…” Otabek trailed off and let his body speak for him. He pulled Yuri in tight and lifted his hips into Yuri’s ass and ground them together where they sat on the stone steps.

“It took you long enough.” Yuri laughed and returned the favor, pressing himself downwards.

“I waited five years to ask you to be my friend. If anything, I’m rushing.”

Otabek ended the conversation there because he needed Yuri’s sweet mouth a little more than his bitter attitude at the moment. He pushed his hands into his hair, longer than ever, and held them together so tight it almost hurt. It was their last night together and he was striving to make it perfect.

Otabek put his hands underneath Yuri, on his tight ass, and lifted them from the steps so Yuri was forced to cling to Otabek koala-style. He screamed and laughed and struggled as Otabek power-walked over to the president’s monument, depositing Yuri against one of the columns and pressing him into it, back-to-front. Otabek ground forward and forced Yuri to feel his hard cock, trapped in his pants. Yuri just so happened to push back in offering.

Otabek pulled his jacket off, dumping it unceremoniously on the ground. It was his oldest, most beat up, and most treasured leather piece – the same thing he was wearing when he picked Yuri up for the first time. It had been repaired more than once since then and had some patches sewn on because of his friends trying to make him look more badass and he loved it so much. Now, though, it was down on the stone floor of the monument and his attention rested on his boyfriend entirely.

Yuri peeled out of his animal print sweater, leaving himself in just an undershirt. It was tight and all black and the arms were cut down low so Otabek had easy access to his nipples. He snaked a hand around and grabbed at his chest and moved his other hand down to Yuri’s hips and his upper thigh and then onto his zipper, noticing a distinct bulge there.

“Look what you do to me.” Yuri murmured as Otabek kissed into his neck and his shoulders, pulling out moans and gasps as he palmed at Yuri’s cock. Otabek was a sucker for that kind of talk and Yuri often used it against him.

“You make me so hard, Beka, won’t you do something about it?” Yuri whimpered, probably faking it a little, but it worked. Otabek pressed him up into the column with just enough room to pull his zipper down. Yuri’s pants and underwear got pulled down, hard, and the cold air made Yuri flinch for a second before Otabek rubbed his still-clothed crotch against his naked ass.

Otabek put his hands on Yuri’s hips and pulled them hard, out away from the column, forcing Yuri to bend at the waist and expose himself to the cold mountain air with his hands up against the stone for purchase. Without a second thought Otabek was down on his knees, never mind the hard ground, and pushed his face into Yuri’s ass.

Otabek could rim Yuri until the night ended, until months passed, until they faced oblivion. Not to be dramatic. He lived for the wet moans he made Yuri give him, the loud and long cries of pleasure, the little huffs and squirms as he worked his tongue inside. Otabek didn’t mind the taste, especially when Yuri kept himself so clean and ready during their visits. Right now he was just sweat and soap and something else, maybe perfume, maybe just the natural _thing_ that was Yuri. Otabek ate it up, literally.

He pushed his tongue into Yuri again and again, feeling his boyfriend wriggle and try to hold onto the stone column even harder as he arched his back so perfectly out in the open. Yuri knew what this was, he knew it was a show even though they were alone. A performance of none.

As Yuri pushed his hips back and out, asking for more with his body language, Otabek placed his thumb on Yuri’s rim alongside his tongue and pushed it in, admiring how Yuri looked with his fingers inside him. He continued to lick the sensitive skin of Yuri’s ass, his perineum, down to the underside of his balls and he listened intently to Yuri’s response. He was panting into the night air.

“Beka, baby…” He trailed off, aimless.

Otabek gave him something to aim for and pulled his thumb out and replaced it with two wet fingers, all the way in. He’d brought lube with him, and a condom if Yuri wanted him to use it, because he was smart, too.

Yuri keened at the pressure and the pleasure and the publicness of it all. He pushed his hips back again and rocked in time with Otabek’s thrusts, trying to work himself open as fast as he could.

Sometimes they rushed this part. They both liked it a little rough but Otabek was going to ensure Yuri was okay before he really fucked him hard out on the steps of an extremely public park. It’s not that he wanted to finish fast but he also didn’t need to draw this out any longer that it had to be and working through pain always lengthened their stays.

This third finger made its way inside and Otabek curled his fingers just right until Yuri was panting again. They’d fucked a lot this week and Otabek knew exactly where Yuri’s prostate was after all of it and he used that knowledge against him time and time again. If he wanted to he would edge him for hours until Yuri was red and wet and crying and desperate. As it were Otabek was desperate himself, achingly hard in his pants as he imagined someone seeing them, someone taking a blurry picture they would have to deny and would get away with because they were good boys after all. They don’t smoke. Otabek doesn’t drink at all and Yuri rarely did. Of course it wasn’t them, they’d say, before going off to do it again in a forest or another park or a steamy car at the airport.

Yuri was leaning almost all the way up against the stone column when Otabek rose to his feet, finally.

“Condom or no?”

“No.”

So be it, Otabek thought. He unzipped his fly which caused delicious tension rise in his belly and felt the cool air hit his skin, both shocking and soothing at the same time. The lube was cold, too, but Yuri’s ass was hot against him as he rubbed the head of his cock against Yuri before slowly, ever so slowly, pushing inside.

Yuri’s body was heaven-sent. It was warm and strong and graceful and as beautiful as a demon with black eyes and snarling lips. Otabek had been under his spell since the moment they laid eyes on each other, and then again when they shook hands in Barcelona. Otabek thanked God for his boyfriend and then prayed for forgiveness for desecrating him out in the open like this.

“Baby, please, keep going.” Yuri’s words brought Otabek back to the present and he thrust forward. He had Yuri bent, still, but only slightly so their heights lined up better. One of Otabek’s hands was twisting Yuri’s nipple pink-red-purple and the other moved slowly over his wet cock, trying to bring him as much pleasure as he could around the uncomfortable stretch of the first couple of thrusts.

The noise of their skin-on-skin echoed in the silent park and spurred Otabek on further, started to pound in earnest into Yuri’s ass.

He moved his hand from Yuri’s nipple up to his mouth and popped his thumb in between Yuri’s lips for him to suck on. They both enjoyed this no matter who had whose fingers in them. Welcome to the madness, indeed.

Yuri moaned around his thumb. He was getting louder as Otabek fucked him hard but it only encouraged Otabek more. He pulled out nearly all the way before pushing back in with all his force and circled Yuri’s cockhead at the same time. He wanted to bring fire into Yuri’s body. He wanted to turn his legs weak and trembling from it all. He wanted this to be the first of many.

Something tight was coiling in Otabek’s own stomach but he pushed it away as best he could – he wanted Yuri to come first. He was the one on display here, debauched, frazzled, wet under the bright white moon like a fairy dancing to trick mere mortals into coming too close. He was Agape all over again.

Otabek moved his hand from Yuri’s mouth down just so to the pale column of his exposed throat and squeezed ever so slightly, asking for permission. Yuri grunted yes and then kept grunting until he was doing nothing but rattling against the echo of their skin. He hung in perfect equilibrium, a dancer on silks.

Yuri shook a little with the effort of holding his pose and his breath so Otabek released and Yuri gasped “more, keep going” and he sounded so broken Otabek couldn’t do anything but comply. He was close and so was Yuri.

He tightened his grip again and Yuri sucked in a breath before letting go, eyes closed, cheek against stone, and allowed himself to be ravished in the midnight. Otabek thrust a little faster now, pushing up against Yuri’s prostate as best he could while jerking him off to a bad tempo –he couldn’t see straight. There was no one in the park but he felt the eyes of the world on him as he made love fucking his boyfriend down to the baseline. He felt the eyes of God.

Yuri came with a whimper, barely enough oxygen in his body to keep him up. Otabek moved his hand away slowly so as not to overwhelm his boyfriend and pushed in hard. He was almost there –

Otabek could see someone in the distance. He couldn’t tell if they were moving towards them but he stared at the lone figure, off in the night, as he fucked Yuri’s ass, so perfect and tight and hot. He came with a loud groan, emptying everything he had into Yuri in more than the literal sense.

He pulled out slowly, gingerly, and flipped Yuri around to kiss him on the mouth without pulling up his pants. His belt rattled in the silence.

The figure in the distance was sill watching so Otabek kissed even deeper, making a little performance of it. He encircled Yuri in his arms and held him tight so that their soft and wet cocks were mushed together and anyone could see their asses, flexing. The last thread of electricity made its way through Otabek’s body until it was gone and the person watching them blended into the night.

“Yeah?” Otabek asked, quietly, reaching down to his jeans.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Yuri responded.

They rode home in silence. They’d already said everything they needed back at the park. Otabek felt Yuri’s arms around him and he felt their helmets clink together and he said a silent prayer, again, for a little forgiveness and a lot of forever.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at the same name.
> 
> where they fuckin': http://www.sadmol.com/sites/default/files/212-1024x4391.jpg


End file.
